#it's so important to me that she gets to do nothing. hera and eiffel are minkowski's slacker roommates To Me. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hephaestuscrew · 9 months

Text

"Minkowski's been talking about Sondheim again…": Minkowski's love of musical theatre and what it reveals about her characterisation and her relationships

TL;DR: Renée Minkowski's love of musicals, while it might seem just like a mundane character detail, is used to give depth to her character because it contrasts with expectations of her from both the listening audience and the other characters. Her willingness or unwillingness to share this interest in different circumstances reveals her relationships with other characters at various points. Since this is a long one, if you'd rather read it as a document, you can view it here: Google Doc version.

"She actually really cares about these talent shows": Episode 8 (Box 953)

In the early episodes of Season 1, Minkowski is presented (largely through Eiffel's unreliable perspective) purely as a strict no-nonsense authority figure without much emotional depth, the kind of person who only likes things that are useful, purposeful, or mandated by Command. In contrast, musical theatre is a creative pursuit that has nothing to do with the mission of the Hephaestus and is viewed by many people as fairly frivolous or silly. The gradual exploration of Minkowski's passion for musicals is one of the many ways that the show expands and challenges our understanding of her as a character.

The first indication that we get of her interest in musicals is through her entry into the infamous talent show, something that is required as part of the mission. Minkowski really cares about 'crew morale' activities in general, even when they actually have a negative effect on morale and even before she's friends with any of her crew (for example, the Christmas and Thanksgiving dinners in the earlier stage of the mission), perhaps partly because doing things in the "right way" is important to her.

But Eiffel senses that the talent shows aren't just about rules for her: "it’s bad enough when she makes us do something just because it’s military protocol, but I think that she actually really cares about these talent shows". This might be the first indication that we get of Minkowski caring deeply about anything that isn't inherently part of her role as a Commander. Moments like this are part of the gradual process of giving us insight into her character beyond the Commander archetype that she tries to embody. And yet, she only indulges her theatrical passion because something mandatory gives her permission, or an excuse, to let another part of herself out.

Of course, to satisfy the needs of a talent show, she'd only need to provide a performance of a few minutes. But Eiffel mentions "the second act of the play" - which along with Hera's comment that "Isabel isn't the biggest role in the play" - implies that Minkowski was intending to put on the whole of Pirates of Penzance as her talent show act, rather than a few of the songs or some kind of medley. (I suppose that Eiffel could be exaggerating or Minkowski might have been planning to do extracts from different parts of the play, but I prefer the interpretation in which Minkowski gets to be more ridiculous.)

Even though no one else would be willing to be in her production of Pirates of Penzance, Minkowski casts Hera as Isabel, a role with two lines and no solo singing. I found some audition notes for this play which said "The traditional staging gives [Isabel] more prominence than the solo opportunities of the part suggest, so she must be a good actress" which does make me sad in relation to Hera's inability to have a more significant role by being physically present on stage.

It’s sweet that Hera still wants to take part though. She tells Eiffel "Pirates of Penzance is a classic of 19th century comic opera", so either she’s absorbed what Minkowski has told her about the show, or she’s done her own research and formed her own opinions. I enjoy the fact that Hera is the one Hephaestus crew member who shows potential to share Minkowski's musical theatre appreciation; I like to think that this is something they could explore together post-canon.

Anyway, I'm obsessed with the idea that Minkowski was planning to play every character except one in Pirates of Penzance, a show which is designed to have 10 principal characters and a chorus of 14 men. It seems that her contribution to the talent show was supposed to be an entire two-hour two-act musical, with costumes and props, in which she would play almost all of the parts. This is very funny to me as the perhaps predictable consequence of giving an ambitious and frustrated grown-up theatre kid a position of authority and asking them to arrange a talent show. Minkowski knows that the audience will be made up of her subordinates who are theoretically obliged by the chain of command to watch and listen, so she absolutely tries to make the most of that opportunity. There's probably also a degree to which she limits other people's involvement in her musical because - as with her other endeavors - she wants the outcome to be almost entirely within her control (something that is usually pretty much impossible in as collaborative a medium as musical theatre).

Of course, Minkowski's behaviour in most of the talent show episode is affected by her being drugged by Hilbert. This creates an exaggerated situation which is the first real opportunity for Minkowski to be something other than the strict sensible authoritarian Commander and the foil to Eiffel's jokey laid-back attitude. I don't agree with ideas that being intoxicated brings out anyone's true self (especially in the absence of consent for the intoxication), but it seems pretty clear that being under the influence of whatever was in Hilbert's concoction caused Minkowski to fully commit to a level of manic enthusiasm for her musical production that might have otherwise been obscured by her professionalism. It's a particular kind of person who belts showtunes when drunk, and Minkowski is that kind of person, even if that's not how she wants to present herself. (As a sidenote, I seem to remember that they took Emma Sherr-Ziarko's script off her to help her sound more drunk. It's an excellent performance.)

Minkowski wants interval ice cream. She wants "pirate costumes" (and she'll threaten to shoot a man to get them). She wants "swashes and buckles". She wants whatever props she can get her hands on (including a real cannon). This show is important to her, even though only three other people will witness it and two of them actively don't want to be there. It’s important to her for its own sake.

Eiffel says Minkowski wants "a second pair of eyes to tell her if the prop sabre for her Major-General costume was a bit much…" While I certainly wouldn't put it past Goddard Futuristics to have a prop sabre on the station for no apparent reason, it feels more likely that she might have made it or adapted some existing item. Which suggests that maybe she was that passionate about the props even before Hilbert drugged her.

Even so, it does feel significant that Minkowski's love of musicals is only revealed in the episode in which she is drugged, exhibiting lowered inhibitions, exaggerated behaviour, and an "impaired euphoric effect". Her love of musical theatre is initially revealed through a professional structure that provides permission, and then further emphasised by a forced intoxication that exaggerates some impulses that perhaps she already had.

"Some hobbies other than making trains run on time": Episode 17 (Bach to the Future)

After Eiffel tells to find Minkowski to find something else to do while her work duties have quietened down, they have the following exchange:

EIFFEL: You must have some hobbies other than making trains run on time. Something to do with friends? Boyfriends? MINKOWSKI: Of course I do, but, well, there aren't really a lot of opportunities for rock climbing or trail hiking in the immediate vicinity.

Even though this quote doesn't mention musicals, I've included it here for two reasons. Firstly, it's very funny to me that, even after the talent show debacle, Eiffel acts like he's never had any evidence of Minkowski's hobbies. She tried to perform a whole play almost single-handedly and it didn't occur to him that this might indicate an interest of hers outside of work. I think this reflects the fairly two-dimensional view that Eiffel has previously had of Minkowski, which her interest in musical theatre didn't fit into.

Secondly, it feels notable that Minkowski doesn't mention musical theatre here. She wants to show that she has non-work interests, but without undermining her own authoritative image. Her interest in rock climbing and trail hiking - while it may be genuine - fits with how she wants to be seen as a Commander. These are hobbies which portray her as physically capable, with a high degree of stamina and a willingness to adapt to perhaps less hospitable surroundings. Of course, Minkowski does have these traits and they serve her well on the Hephaestus. But there's not really anything particularly surprising about her expressing these interests. The surprise in this scene comes from the reveal that she has a husband, a character detail which - like her love of musicals - isn't something we'd necessarily expect from the archetype-based view of her we are initially presented with.

Her interest in rock climbing and trail hiking never come up again, because these details don't really deepen her characterisation (or at least, they aren't really used to deepen her characterisation beyond proving that she isn't entirely all-work-and-no-play). In contrast, Minkowski's love of musicals is brought up over and over because it shows another side of her that she struggles to reveal on the Hephaestus, and that allows more interesting things to be done with her characterisation.

"You wanted to write showtunes": Episode 35 (Need to Know)

Alongside the more high stakes discoveries prompted by the leak from Kepler's files, we also learn that Minkowski applied to - and was rejected from - the Tisch Graduate Musical Theater Writing Program.

Up until this point, we've only had evidence that Minkowski enjoys performing in musicals. But here we learn that Minkowski doesn't just love watching or performing in musicals - she wanted to write them too. This suggests a creative side to her that we never see her fully express.

The course

The Tisch Graduate Musical Theatre Writing Program claims to be the only course of its kind in the world and it accepts just 30 students each year. The current application process requires applicants to: upload play scripts or recordings of songs they've written; answer a large number of extended response questions about their creative process and views on musical theatre; write a 'statement of purpose' which has to talk about why they are applying and include 3 original ideas for musicals; provide a professional resume and a digital portfolio; complete an exercise of writing in response to a prompt; and undergo an interview. The process might have changed somewhat since Minkowski would have been applying (which, if it was soon after she finished college, might have been around the early 2000s) or it might be different in Wolf 359's alternate universe, but I think we can safely assume that applying to this course was a serious undertaking that required an intense amount of commitment and work.

Applying to a course like that isn't something you do half-heartedly or on a whim. You couldn't apply to this course if you hadn't done a fair amount of musical theatre writing already. (The course requires applicants to choose to apply as bookwriters, lyricists, or composers, but I'm not going to make a guess here as to which of these Minkowski went for.) The fact that Minkowski wanted to study this course suggests that she was seriously considering trying to make a career out of musical theatre writing. In Once In A Lifetime, she tells Cutter that commanding a space station has always been her dream job, but we've got evidence here that it wasn't her only dream job. There's something kind of funny and kind of sad about the idea that writing musicals was her back-up / fall-back career path. She does not like to make life easy for herself.

The revelation

This information is revealed against Minkowski's will. It's not something she wanted people to find out, and she isn't happy about them knowing:

JACOBI: "Dear Renée, thank you for your interest in the Tisch Graduate Musical Theater Writing Program..." MINKOWSKI: Oh, come on! JACOBI: (pressing on) "We are sorry to say, we will not be able to offer you a spot in this year's blah blah blah." Oh this is too good. You wanted to write showtunes? MINKOWSKI: Number one? Shut up. Number two, why are my personal records on there?! [...] How is it in any way relevant?! JACOBI: Oh, I think it's very relevant. I mean, if you're sending someone to pilot ships in deep space, you want to make sure that they can, you know... paint with all the colors of the wind. Jacobi CRACKS UP - and, although to a lesser degree, so does Lovelace. Minkowski looks at her: really? LOVELACE: Sorry, Minkowski. It's... it's a little funny. MINKOWKSI: No, it isn't!

Minkowski seems defensive and embarrassed here. She obviously doesn't trust everyone there with this revelation (Jacobi, Maxwell, Lovelace, and Hera are all present). She considers this information to be "personal" and irrelevant and not even "a little funny". She's used to reactions like Jacobi's (and to a lesser extent Lovelace's); in Ep41 Memoria, she says "most people think it's hilarious that I like musicals" (see below for more thoughts about this quote). But the fact that these mocking reactions are expected doesn't mean that they don't bother her. She wants so badly to be taken seriously and, in this scene, her interest in musical theatre seems to be incompatible with that. Jacobi reacts the way that he does because of the idea that I've already expressed, that a passion for musical theatre does not fit with the serious authoritative image that Minkowski has often presented. It's not the typical hobby of a soldier, especially not a Commander.

To me, the way Lovelace laughs suggests that she might not have previously known about Minkowski's love of musicals, or at least perhaps not the full extent of it. At any rate, it's definitely news to Jacobi. And Minkowski clearly hasn't talked about it enough for it not to feel like a big reveal for her.

The rejection

It's notable that this reveal is not just that she wanted to write for the stage, but also that she failed to get into a course that might have helped her work towards that goal. This of course compounds Minkowski's discomfort at having this information revealed. Not only did she want to write showtunes, but she encountered rejection in her attempts to do so. This detail implies that perhaps it wasn't just the appeal of her spacefaring dream that stopped her going down a theatrical career path.

I'm about to move more into headcanon territory rather than just straightforward analysis, but I personally believe that, while Minkowski auditioned for a lot of musicals (particularly as a child / young person), she was never cast as the main role. She seems embarrassed about her interest in musical theatre in a way that (at least judging by people I've encountered) people who were always the lead in their school / college productions don't tend to be.

We don't have much evidence about her actual level of singing/acting ability, given that she is inebriated during the only time we hear her sing in the podcast. However, it resonates with other aspects of her characterisation to imagine that Minkowski was generally good enough to get an ensemble part but never quite good enough to be cast as a main part. I think she might see only ever being cast as part of the ensemble, and failing to get into the Tisch Musical Theatre Writing programme, as slightly more down-to-earth examples of the same pattern as her repeated rejections from NASA. She is desperate to prove herself. She is "someone who very much wants to matter. To do something important." When she casts herself as almost every part in Pirates of Penzance, she is finally taking the opportunity to be a main character, an opportunity which I imagine had been denied to her over and over in both a literal and metaphorical sense.

"It's just from a play I saw once": Episode 41 (Memoria)

The next scene I want to talk about is from a memory of Hera's, which took place on Day 57 of the Hephaestus mission and in which Minkowski appears to be talking about the Stephen Sondheim musical Sunday in the Park with George:

MINKOWSKI: Oh, it's just from a play I saw once. It doesn't matter. (BEAT) The guy who sings it is this famous French painter. And his entire life is kinda falling apart. But he can always turn what's happening around him into these beautiful paintings. HERA: And? MINKOWSKI: And... That's, I don't know. Reassuring, maybe? (BEAT) I don't know why I'm going on about this. You don't care. HERA: I think it's interesting. MINKOWSKI: Yeah? Most people think it's hilarious that I like musicals. HERA: I don't see what's funny about it. MINKOWSKI: Well, thank you Hera, but you're not exactly... you know. HERA: I'm not... what?

There's a couple of different things I want to pick out from this exchange. Firstly, the line "Most people think it's hilarious that I like musicals" makes me sad. I don't think she's talking about people on the Hephaestus there. Judging by the quote I talked about from Bach to the Future, Eiffel definitely wouldn't have registered Minkowski's love of musicals at this stage, and I doubt Hilbert cares at all about the hobbies of his fellow crew members. So Minkowski is talking about experiences that she's had on Earth, of people mocking her interest in musicals and thinking it doesn't fit with who she is. You can hear the impact of those experiences in Minkowski's reluctance to elaborate, in the way she says that something she obviously cares about doesn't matter, in her assumption that Hera doesn't care.

Secondly, this scene is a complicated one for Minkowski and Hera's relationship. On the one hand, Minkowski freely talks to Hera about something she's passionate about, and Hera listens and expresses interest. Hera validates Minkowski's interest in musical theatre without making a thing of it being weird and Minkowski thanks her. Again, it’s shown as an interest they could could potentially share.

But on the other hand, it seems like part of the reason Minkowski feels able to open up to Hera is because at this point Minkowski doesn't see opening up to Hera as fully equivalent to opening up to a fellow human. She doesn't just accept Hera not making fun of her interest; instead it seems Minkowski is about to imply that this lack of judgment indicates Hera's difference from humans (although she does have the decency not to say it outright). Minkowski's expectation of judgment from others contributes to her saying something very hurtful to Hera here. (This kind of potential consequence of negative self-attitude is explored a lot with Eiffel, so it's interesting that Minkowski can sometimes have a similar issue.)

Minkowski and Hera's conversation is interrupted when:

The DOOR OPENS. EIFFEL: Hey, Minkowski, we've - What are you guys talking about? MINKOWSKI: We were just discussing how I'm going to take away your hot water privileges if you don't reset the long-range scan.

Eiffel can obviously tell that he's walked in on a conversation that is about something other than work, or he wouldn't have asked. But Minkowski actively chooses not to tell him that she was talking to Hera about musicals. Perhaps she doesn't know how to open up to a human subordinate about it. Perhaps she doesn't trust him not to make fun of her. Perhaps she just doesn't have any impulse to talk about her interests with him. Either way, if Minkowski's love of musicals is something which reflects a side of her personality outside of her Commander role, this is a moment where she chooses not to take an opportunity to share that side of herself with Eiffel. This reflects the emotional distance between them three months into the mission, which forms a nice contrast with the next couple of quotes I'm going to talk about.

"Composition. Balance. Harmony.": Episode 54 (The Watchtower)

When Eiffel comes directly face to face with alien life, he discovers that music is the human invention that fascinates the Dear Listeners:

EIFFEL: You haven't figured out music? BOB: ORDER. DESIGN. TENSION. COMPOSITION. BALANCE. HARMONY. EIFFEL: (low, to himself) Minkowski's been talking about Sondheim again…

I only learned in the course of writing this post that in this moment the Dear Listeners are almost exactly quoting a repeated phrase used throughout Sunday in the Park with George. The titular protagonist lists various combinations of these qualities in multiple songs in reference to his art. In the closing song, the lyrics are "Order. Design. Tension. Composition. Balance. Light. [...] Harmony." It's not only Eiffel's references that the Dear Listeners are incorporating into their speech - they've picked this one up from Minkowski. This also suggests that some element of her appreciation for musicals and the way she talks about them has fed into the Dear Listeners' understanding of the human phenomenon of music. The Dear Listeners aren't just parroting - they understood the quote enough that they left out the word "light", arguably the only quality in that phrase which isn't a big part of music as well as visual art. Eiffel likes music too, but I don't think that this is how he'd talk about his favourite songs.

This is a refrain about finding order and beauty out of the chaos and uncertainty of life, which was also the aspect of Sunday in the Park with George that Minkowski focused on when talking about it in Memoria. It suggests that art/music could be something governed by rules and principles, which is potentially something that appeals both to Minkowski and to the Dear Listeners.

Eiffel's response to this reference is one of those little hints that reminds us that Eiffel and Minkowski have spent a lot of time together and that not all of that time has involved them being at each others' throats or actively in a life-or-death situation. Some of it has just been Minkowski going on about a musical she loves and Eiffel (willingly or not) paying enough attention that he recognises this phrase as a Sondheim quote that Minkowski has talked about. I suppose that this quote might have been in Eiffel's pop-culture-brain anyway, but judging from Eiffel's general tastes and the fact that I don't think Sunday in the Park with George is one of the more commonly known Sondheim musicals among non-musical fans, it seems more likely that this quote is something he only knows because Minkowski has talked about it.

Eiffel sounds exasperated at the mention, like he's heard Minkowski talk about Sondheim far too much. But I'd argue that this still says something positive about their relationship, when we contrast it with a couple of other moments I've already mentioned. Firstly, when her previous musical theatre ambitions are revealed to Jacobi, Maxwell, and Lovelace in Need to Know, Minkowski seems embarrassed and defensive. Secondly, in the memory from Memoria, she avoids telling Eiffel that she was talking about this same musical. Yet, by the time The Watchtower takes place, Eiffel is sick of hearing Minkowski talk about Sondheim. She doesn't have the same barriers up in sharing her interests with him, even though he doesn't have the same interests. I think this is a demonstration of how comfortable she feels with him. It's a hint at the kind of easy downtime that they've sometimes shared.

"One day more": Episode 61 (Brave New World)

Eiffel recognises another musical reference of Minkowski’s in the finale. As the crew are preparing for their final confrontation with Cutter and co., Minkowski quotes Les Misérables, mostly to herself - but Eiffel recognises the lyrics and joins in:

EIFFEL: Hey - chin up, soldier. We're almost through. Just one more day, and then we're done. MINKOWSKI: Yeah, one more day. (more to herself) The time is now, the place is here - one day more. EIFFEL: - one day more. They both stop, dead in their tracks. MINKOWSKI: Did you just - ? EIFFEL: Was that what I - ? They look at each other: No way. And BURST INTO LAUGHTER. EIFFEL: Man... this is really it, huh? The end of everything.

It feels really important that Minkowski and Eiffel share this moment of togetherness before she tries to send him back to Earth and before the rest of the action goes down. I think there’s some nice symbolism about them finding a way to communicate that they both understand. Making references is Eiffel's thing, and musicals are Minkowski's thing, so this is a synthesis of their two approaches. Again, there's a contrast with Minkowski's previous unwillingness to share her musical theatre passions with Eiffel (at least without the mitigating circumstances of a mandatory talent show and some kind of intoxicating substance).

I talked about the significance of the fact that they reference this particular musical in this post from ages ago. I don't think it's too much of a spoiler for Les Misérables to say that the revolution that the song One Day More is building up to does not end well for the revolutionaries. When Eiffel says "Just one more day, and then we're done", it encompasses both the possibility that the crew will escape to travel back to Earth and the possibility that they will all die. Minkowski's reference to a famously tragic musical suggests that it's the latter possibility that's at the forefront of her mind (right before she tries to send Eiffel away from the danger). But Les Misérables is also a story about people standing together in solidarity against powerful oppressive forces, which gives particular resonance to the way that this reference brings Eiffel and Minkowski together in a moment of being completely on the same wavelength as they prepare to fight Cutter and Pryce's plan.

When they laugh here, it's not about the 'hilariousness' of Minkowski's interest in musicals, it's about their unexpected unison - Eiffel's recognition of Minkowski's reference and Minkowski's surprise at the fact he joined in. It's a laugh of togetherness, of shared understanding, of friendship. It's a moment of lightness in dark times. And that moment is provided by Minkowski's pop culture interests, not Eiffel's. In spite of all they've been through, she's not lost that part of herself, and in fact, she's more open about it, at least to Eiffel.

I'll finish by highlighting what Eiffel says when he's trying to get into character to impersonate Minkowski so he can turn the Sol around:

EIFFEL: Umm... yes, this is Lieutenant Commander Renée Minkowski. I'm... uh... well I sure love schedules, and, uh, musicals. And that man, who I married…

I just think this is a nice example of Eiffel not defining Minkowski solely by her professional Commander role. Sure, she likes schedules (probably in a personal as well a professional capacity to be fair), but she also loves musicals, and her husband. It is a fairly reductive overview of her as a person, but it feels reductive in a fond way, like these things are part of Minkowski's brand to Eiffel in a way that he might affectionately tease her about. (Credit to @commsroom for this thought.) His view of Minkowski has come a long way from "our resident Statsi agent" or even just "you must have some hobbies other than making trains run on time." He doesn't see any contradiction or inherent humour in Lieutenant Commander Renée Minkowski's appreciation of musicals.

Conclusion

Minkowski's love of musical theatre is used to deepen her characterisation and is one of the ways in which we gradually begin to see her complexity beyond the strict Commander archetype. The degree to which she is prepared to share this interest at various points is used to illustrate the nature of her relationships with other characters: a general unwillingness to show a less serious side of herself; a complicated potential shared interest with Hera; and the growing understanding between her and Eiffel.

If you read this whole thing, well done / thank you 😄 It wasn't meant to be this long - it just happened… Feel free to share your thoughts!

#It's Minkowski Essay Time again!#This is over 4700 words and still doesn't cover it all...#I hadn't quite realised there was so much to say!#Wolf 359 #w359 #If anyone is more familiar with 'Sunday in the Park with George' and has thoughts on why it might particularly appeal to Minkowski #I'd be interested to hear #I listened to the soundtrack and read the Wikipedia plot summary #but I don't think I really got it #My other significant bit of research was that #in order to see what applying to the Tisch Graduate Musical Theatre Writing Program involves #I had to create an account as if I was actually applying #which might be the oddest thing I've done for character analysis #If it interests anyone I could do a post with more detail about that application process #cos it looks insanely intense #Renée Minkowski #Renee Minkowski #the empty man posteth #I hope no one takes things I have said here as critical of musical theatre people btw #I'm just talking about general perceptions #In general I do enjoy musicals myself from an audience perspective

179 notes · View notes

geejaysmith · 4 years

Text

On Minkowski’s Weird “I stayed up too late” Personality

check it out everyone, it's time for more Bullshit from Discord but this time with the groupchat

Kat [Yesterday at 8:17 PM] https://mspainttaz.tumblr.com/post/616173308845670400/beginning-of-stolen-century-musta-been-rough alternate explanation for "the cheeses" and why Maxwell won't room with Jacobi anymore

Gill [Yesterday at 8:19 PM] Jacobi: I could go out to the 24hr grocery store right now at 3 am and buy the fanciest fucking cheeses at Hy-Vee and no one could stop me. Maxwell: Please go the fuck to sleep. hm... what does everyone on the Hephaestus do when they can't sleep at 3 AM... what are their weird “i stayed up too late” personalities...

Kat [Yesterday at 8:22 PM] https://tiny-crecher.tumblr.com/post/627965201608802304/i-have-decided-it-is-of-the-utmost-importance-that not necessarily related but Eiffel found the kitkat, minkowski told him not to eat it, Hera somehow made the case for it also we know what Minkowski's 3am stayed up too late personality is, there was a whole episode for it

Gill [Yesterday at 8:22 PM] oh god that's right that's what that is Minkowski, up too late in season 4, has no Known Threats to build acid traps against, so Lovelace finds her in the mess hall building a Pepe Silvia Conspiracy Wall to Try And Deduce What The Aliens Want

agentartemis [Yesterday at 8:23 PM] Haha true And. Yeah probably

Gill [Yesterday at 8:25 PM] Minkowski, aggressively slapping half-scribbled notes connected with tape and bits of string: The aliens want us to go SURFING, it's the ONLY THING THAT MAKES SENSE Lovelace, sipping a protein shake and nodding along because neither of them are getting any decent sleep tonight and this is the most interesting thing to happen this week

Gill [Yesterday at 8:29 PM] Eiffel, at the "so does anyone have any ideas" meeting the next morning: you two like you had a... productive evening Lovelace: We narrowed it down. Whatever the aliens want, it's either about surfing or something involving an interspecies mating ritual that may or may not entail actual human sacrifice.

agentartemis [Yesterday at 8:33 PM] Eiffel maybe: ......well mark me down as scared and horny

Gill [Yesterday at 8:34 PM] Minkowski, after the end of Dirty Work when they're looking for Eiffel in the void of space (again): Dear god, I hope we're right about the surfing and wrong about the human sacrifice. Lovelace, later on, once Eiffel's back and they've escaped from Cutter and company and they need anything to talk about but the insane odds in front of them: So. Aliens. Eiffel: Yes. Aliens. Lovelace: You met some. Eiffel: Yeah, and the surfing theory wasn't... exactly off-base, per say... Lovelace: ...and? Eiffel: ..........And? Lovelace: Look, just get it out there and get it over with: did you fuck an alien? Eiffel: Oh, that. No. Lovelace: Right, right. You hear that Minkowski? You owe me Starbucks when we get back to Earth!

agentartemis [Yesterday at 8:42 PM] haha Minkowski: damn it but also thank god

Kat [Yesterday at 8:42 PM] Eiffel: I mean. I guess theoretically they are fuckable? But since it looked like me, no thanks.

agentartemis [Yesterday at 8:43 PM] Eiffel realizing he talked big game in the Would You Fuck Your Clone banned dinner debate but now actually faced with the possibility is realizing he is way more of a weenie about that than he thought he would be Everyone learning deep truths about themselves

Gill [Yesterday at 8:56 PM] Eiffel: You had a bet going over whether or not I'd fuck the aliens?? Minkowski: Well, not exactly... be fair, Lovelace. What were the exact terms of our wager? Lovelace: /sigh, fine. See, I jokingly tossed out an innuendo about how they were waiting for you to "get together and feel alright" and Minkowski took no time at all to turn that into the whole human-sacrifice-coitus thing, which, granted, it was 4 AM and she was on a bender fueled by nothing but caffeine and Astronaut Kibble, so really, that's my fault. But the point is, she was certain that if it was a sex thing? And if it was for the good of the crew, if not the whole of the planet Earth and all life on it? You'd do it. Minkowski: You also might just do it because they offered. Lovelace: Right, and I said, "no way, you saw him freak out when I did the whole- /handwaving to represent the Avatar state/ right? This all scares the hell out of him!" And then added, "if you're right, but he doesn't fuck the aliens, when we get back to Earth, I'm going to stroll into the nearest Starbucks and order something with enough sugar in it to send me into hyperglycemic shock, and you're gonna pay the tab for it." Minkowski: Right, but Eiffel didn't say definitively whether or not it was a sex thing, which left one of the terms unfulfilled. Lovelace: But he implied that it wasn’t a sex thing in the first place, which invalidates the whole first premise, but in the end, he still didn't fuck the aliens! So I'm still more right than you are. Minkowski: Eiffel, did or did not the Dear Listeners- Eiffel: Commander, what the hell made you so sure I'd be down for the microgravity mambo with an extraterrestrial!? Minkowski: Easy. You're a B answer.

agentartemis [Yesterday at 8:59 PM] you truly never live down a B answer, huh

Kat [Yesterday at 9:02 PM] filed under: discord chat concepts that took on a life of their own

Kinsey [Yesterday at 9:02 PM] Hahahaha

Kat [Yesterday at 9:02 PM] that one was also my fault

agentartemis [Yesterday at 9:02 PM] it makes me laugh every time so it's canon in my heart thank u

Gill [Yesterday at 9:05 PM] Eiffel: Yeah-!! Well- that was before we actually found any aliens. At the time I was assuming less "all-powerful incorporeal voice-stealing force" and more blue alien chicks from Star Wars, you know?? Or Darth Maul. God, Darth Maul was the best thing about Phantom Menace... Lovelace: Undergoing some self-reflection, are we? Eiffel: Yeah... and now that I think about it, I don't think I'm the only one. Isn't that right, Minkowski? Or should I say, Commander D-Answer? Minkowski, eyes narrowing: What're you getting at? Eiffel: I haven't heard a word of skepticism about the whole thing since Lovelace turned up! And you jumped on the "intergalactic transmissions and chill" idea pretty quickly from the sound of it... Jacobi: Holy shit can we just break into Pryce's lab and get this over with already I want out of this conversation

Kat [Yesterday at 9:06 PM] Are you insinuating you'd fuck Darth Maul

agentartemis [Yesterday at 9:07 PM] I am absolutely willing to believe Eiffel would fuck Darth Maul

Gill [Yesterday at 9:07 PM] look I needed an alien dude who wasn't just White Guy From Another Planet and that was the first thing that came to mind

Kinsey [Yesterday at 9:07 PM] Same whispers admiral ackbar

agentartemis [Yesterday at 9:07 PM] Nah Eiffel's a normie

Kinsey [Yesterday at 9:08 PM] Yea you're right

Gill [Yesterday at 9:08 PM] Ok, Phantom Menace came out in May of '99, Eiffel was born in '82, he would've been 16 and a half

Kinsey [Yesterday at 9:08 PM] NOT A FURRY EITHER or else...

agentartemis [Yesterday at 9:08 PM] He talks big about a wide variety of pop culture geek stuff but he has very normie tastes when you get down to it

Gill [Yesterday at 9:08 PM] and possibly still in the kind of Goth phase that would've been receptive to Shadow The Edgehog Evil Jedi

Kinsey [Yesterday at 9:08 PM] LOL

agentartemis [Yesterday at 9:08 PM] hahaha good take

Kat [Yesterday at 9:09 PM] it's true his pop culture lexicon is pretty normie Gabriel is this a reflection on you

Gill [Yesterday at 9:10 PM] as someone who follows the man on Twitter: probably, yeah

Kinsey [Yesterday at 9:10 PM] We have to make our own food With homestuck Eiffel

Gill [Yesterday at 9:10 PM] there are Homestucks on that station and if anyone tries to tell me otherwise I will face god and walk backwards into hell

agentartemis [Yesterday at 9:11 PM] hahaha they lurk

Gill [Yesterday at 9:11 PM] semi-related because I was speculating about Teen Eiffel's Taste In Men and this comic came up on my Tumblr dash https://werewolf-boi.tumblr.com/post/628109055176605696/reparrishcomics-facebook-twitter-instagram</p>

#wolf 359 #groupchat chaos #conversations with kat #deliverusfromsburb

3 notes · View notes

july-19th-club · 4 years

Text

BRO i’m close to the end of wolf 359 s1 and im THINKING

honestly it kind of feels like the person most likely to be lying the biggest at this point is eiffel and ill say why in a moment

hilbert’s lying about his experiments, but we knew that. he’s also been in a situation like this at some point in the past (maybe many points in the past), which might mean that he’s monitoring the others; his main role on the crew is then ‘mind the subjects and when they’ve outlived their usefulness, we’ll bring you in’ - except that he’s never seen an emergency door before. he’s confused about something despite knowing a lot more about whatever mess they’re in than the rest of the crew does

hera’s lying but i want to say less seriously, and it could just be a programming thing - her makers could have kept information from her or disabled her ability to share that information with others - or more likely, she’s withholding whatever information she’s withholding because she’s just testing her boundaries. and i love her and think she deserves that. she referred to their ‘mission’ as a ‘game’, but whether that’s actually what it is or just how she thinks about it (or has been programmed to think about it) is something else

minkowski’s the least likely to lie, because she likes to do things by the book and her main concern is always the safety of the crew and the ship and the mission. she takes it all very seriously, and all we learn about in her personal clip from episode 11 is that she’s married and she’s more scared than she lets on. oh, and that she’s worried the weird weather they’ve been having isn’t normal for their location. and that she keeps seeing things that don’t add up (disappearing rooms the crew doesn’t seem to think ever existed; repeating days only she notices). either she’s right and being gaslit, or she’s wrong and being gaslit

eiffel. i just feel. like there’s something extra going on. his nattering comes across as very sincere nattering, but he also looks like the only character without some hidden agenda or concern - which of course means that he must have one, it’s just successfully hidden beneath his bumbling, lovably-lazy persona. perhaps his penchant for flippantly recording all kinds of drivel throughout the day is a way to distract from whatever important stuff he actually is doing. what is it? don’t know yet but it’s hard not to trust the main narrator of a story for me; im bad at identifying when someone is unreliable so im just erring on the side of suspicion for now

the weather thing is the one that gets me most. because they’ve been on space walks and things, so clearly they are IN space or else in an extremely in-depth and realistic VR experience that includes injury, illness, etc. but maybe they’re not orbiting where they think they are?

how much of their experience is actually going on and how much of it is fabricated by some outside force (with which one or more of the crew might be aligned) in order to...what, observe them?

the fact that they’re supposed to be looking for aliens, and they can travel eight lightyears from earth but haven’t seen any non-human life (yet, that they know of)? does it not exist and won’t be a part of the story? bullshit there are definitely aliens the only real question is does aliens apply to any of the crew? my money’s on eiffel he seems like he could be an alien

also and this is nothing it just keeps bugging me: how come they have FTL travel but they don’t have artificial gravity yet?

#wolf 359 #it's been a really long time since i read/listened to/watched something where i had absolutely NO idea what was going to happen next #no real spoilers #ok not THAT long amnesty was just this summer. and i listneed to it as it came out so #still it FEELS like it's been a long time

9 notes · View notes

briflatclarinet · 5 years

Text

25 Days of Wolfmas: Prompt Two

U.S.S. HEPHAESTUS STATION, WOLF 359 MISSION

PROJECT WOLFMAS: TRANSCRIPTION AND NOTES

Log Date: 12021859-WDE

BEGIN TRANSMISSION

EIFFEL

Are you serious? I already did this yesterday, Commander! You heard me recording the transmission!

MINKOWSKI

While it was amazing to hear you actually doing your job for once, Eiffel, I’m afraid you’re going to have to do it again. Command sent specific instructions for one question to be read out everyday until Christmas.

EIFFEL

But sir! That’s twenty-three days from now! Do you really expect me to read these things twenty-three times?!

HERA

Actually you have to read them twenty-four more times, Officer Eiffel. You haven’t recorded today’s question yet.

EIFFEL

Hera! Ix-nay on the echnicalities-tay.

MINKOWSKI

I don’t get what you’re complaining about, Eiffel. It’s just reading one cue card a day and the questions aren’t even that long!

EIFFEL

I get what you mean, Commander, and trust me I’d be totally fine with easy work. It’s just… I don’t get why I have to do it. I mean, what’s the point? I’m not even answering the question!

MINKOWSKI

(Sigh) I don’t know why Command wants you to read these, Eiffel, but you were given an order to read them and so help me, I’m going to make sure you actually complete this assignment. I don’t want you half-assing something as simple as this, so you’re going to go in there, record the stupid message, and you’re going to do it right. I don’t want any funny business, capiche?

(Silence)

MINKOWSKI

Eiffel!

EIFFEL

Alright, Commander! You don’t have to shout!

MINKOWSKI

Are you going to go read the card?

EIFFEL

(Silence) (A long sigh) Fine. (Grumbles) I’ll read the stupid card.

MINKOWSKI

Good. Then get to it!

EIFFEL

(Sigh) Yes, sir.

MINKOWSKI

Here’s today’s question. Don’t you even think about leaving the Comms Room until you get this recorded and sent to Command, got it?

EIFFEL

(Groan) Yes, Commander! Will you get off my back and let me get this over with already?

MINKOWSKI

Alright, then. Get to it, Eiffel. (Note: Footsteps are heard and then a door slamming shut)

EIFFEL

(Growl) She can be so annoying sometimes! (Note: Officer Eiffel changes his tone of voice to mock Commander Minkowski) Eiffel! Here’s this useless and menial job sent by Command. I want you to do it no matter how stupid it is because I’m such a kiss-up who always does what Command says. I don’t care if it’s a waste of your precious time, get to work!

HERA

I’d make sure Commander Minkowski couldn’t hear me before I began mocking her, Officer Eiffel.

EIFFEL

Oh, crap! Did I turn the Comms on again, Hera?

HERA

(Note: Unit 214, designation: Hera, sounds amused) No. I just wanted to see your face.

EIFFEL

(Note: Officer Eiffel does not sound amused) Oh ha ha, very funny. You almost gave me a heart attack, Hera. The Commander would chew me out if she heard me say those things.

HERA

Because that would mean you weren’t recording your question and answer card?

EIFFEL

Exactly. I don’t get why she’s so into me reading these. And for twenty-three days? Is she serious?

HERA

That is what Command ordered you to do.

EIFFEL

I couldn’t care less what Command wants. This is so stupid! Command could order me to dress in drag and do the hula and I wouldn’t find it nearly as pointless as this.

HERA

(Laugh) While that would certainly be an interesting sight, Officer Eiffel, all Command has asked is you read one little cue card. Just one! That’s it! You can manage to read one card.

EIFFEL

I could, but it’s the principle of the matter, Hera! I wasn’t sent up here to do busy work! Command put me in the sky to make first contact with aliens and all this time I waste with this stupid cue card is a missed moment where I could be talking shop with E.T.!

HERA

Does all the time you’re wasting by complaining instead of reading the card count as a missed moment too?

(Silence)

EIFFEL

Shut up, Hera.

HERA

(Chuckle) Just get on with it, Officer Eiffel. Then you can go back to searching for your extraterrestrials.

EIFFEL

(Sigh) Alright, fine. You don’t have to twist my arm. (Another sigh as some blips and beeps are heard. Note: noises are presumably from the Comms Room control panel)

(Sounds of Officer Eiffel clearing his throat) Howdy, folks! It’s your favorite radio personnel, Communications Officer Doug Eiffel, back at it again with another stup- wonderful question and answer set from Command! (Laugh) Aren’t they simply the best? And to make things even better, I just found out Command wants me to do this each and everyday until Christmas! Can you believe it? I get to read a question and answer everyday until December 25th. How great is that?

(Silence)

EIFFEL

Yeah, that’s what I though to. So (Throat clearing) Let’s get this over with. Today’s wonderfully amazing question seems to be a simple one: What’s your favorite episode? Now, I’m not sure what they mean by episode but if it were me, I’d probably choose something from a classic series like Star Trek or good old Doctor Who; but as we learned yesterday, I’m not the one answering so let’s see what our mystery writer has to say.

(Note: shuffling can be heard) Okay, let’s see here. Woah, today’s response is a bit wordier than yesterday’s, Dear Listeners, I guess our mystery write has quite a bit to say on the subject. Good ol’ MW says: I can’t just pick one episode, so I’m going to answer this question by picking a favorite from each season.

(Small laugh) Sounds like MW here’s a bit of an over-achiever, they’d probably get along with Minkowski. Anyways.

From season one, my favorite episode is either Am I Alone? or The Empty Man Cometh.

Wait a minute… The Empty Man Cometh? Could they be talking about when Command sent us that psych eval? How could anyone like that?

HERA

Officer Eiffel, maybe your questions would be answered if you just finished reading what’s written down?

EIFFEL

Alright, no need to get smart with me, Hera. (Note: Officer Eiffel is amused by Unit 214’s statement.)

HERA

(Chuckles) It was just a suggestion, Officer Eiffel.

EIFFEL

I read ya loud and clear, Hera, I’ll finish the letter.

I loved the introspection we got with each character’s monologues in Am I Alone? (And the discussions of what can be considered ‘alone’ were very interesting!) and I really enjoyed The Empty Man Cometh because it was super creepy! I remember first listening to this episode very early one morning and I was so spooked because I was the only one awake in the house, but this episode really put me on edge until the big reveal at the end of the episode.

Hmph, well if you thought listening to all that mumbo jumbo was creepy, just imagine how I felt living it.

HERA

Officer Eiffel, I don’t think Command needed you to comment on the question’s answer.

EIFFEL

And I don’t think I needed advice from the peanut gallery, Hera, but here we are. (Note: the transcriber believes Officer Eiffel and Unit 214 are merely teasing each other and mean no malice. More notes shall be taken on this subject as the project continues.)

HERA

Just get back to reading the answer, Eiffel.

EIFFEL

Okay, okay. Now where were we? Oh, right.

My favorite episode from season two is definitely The Paranoia Game. It’s just a really funny episode to me and I love how everyone had a concrete theory on who stole the screwdriver, but they were all wrong (I totally called the real culprit beforehand btw and was really happy to hear from the plant monster once again). Season three was filled with so many great episodes, but I’d have to say my favorite was Mayday. It was so interesting to see how Eiffel worked out what he needed to do to survive and I loved how each part of Eiffel’s internal monologue was portrayed by a different person depending on what Eiffel needed to hear at that moment. I honestly loved how that’s a recurring thing in the show as each character is haunted by the ghosts of what they’ve done. Plus Zach Valenti’s acting was amazing and it was super cool to see Eiffel work out such an innovative and clever way to survive so long on a broken down escape pod.

(Note: Officer Eiffel chuckles and speaks with a smug tone) Well, thank you, mystery write. (A smug sigh) It’s always nice to be appreciated for my genius.

HERA

I wonder who Zach Valenti is?

EIFFEL

Some nobody actor by the sounds of it. Probably just thrown in there as an afterthought, I doubt it’s someone important. But, hey. We’re almost done with today’s letter. Looks like there’s only one paragraph left, thank god. Let’s wrap this up quick.

The most obvious answer to which episode I liked the most in season four would be the finale but while I did love it (no matter how heart wrenching some parts were) I think my favorite episode of season four had to be Dirty Work because it was nice to see Jacobi and Minkowski both struggle with their grief ad guilt. Constructive Criticism was a fun episode too, but I mostly enjoyed listening to how much everyone annoyed each other with Kepler’s games. I’ve even been tempted to try one out myself the next time my friends and I are super bored.

EIFFEL (CONT.)

There. I read the stupid question. Happy?

HERA

Commander Minkowski should be pleased to know you’ve finished her request… But wasn’t that last part super weird?

EIFFEL

Yeah… I don’t know who Kepler or Jacobi are and I don’t know what grief it was talking about. But I thought these were coming from someone who had been listening to our logs?

HERA

So did I, but I don’t know what most of that was about.

(Long silence)

EIFFEL

(Note: Officer Eiffel begins to blow air through his lips, making a sputtering noise.) You know what, Hera? This is probably some sort of joke. Command is probably yanking our chain again.

HERA

Maybe you’re right, Officer Eiffel. Either way, nothing like what was mentioned in that last part has happened yet, so there’s no point in worrying about it.

EIFFEL

Exactly what I was thinking! Now, how’s about I finish this recording and we go annoy Minkowski for a bit?

HERA

Don’t you mean you go annoy Minkowski and then leave me to mediate?

EIFFEL

(Note: Officer Eiffel clicks his tongue, most likely paired with finger guns.) I like your style, kid. That plans sounds even better than mine.

HERA

(Sighs) Just finish the recording, Officer Eiffel.

EIFFEL

Alright, alright. (Throat clearing) So there you have it, ladies and gents! Another day, another confusing question and answer! Will tomorrow be just as annoying? Will the question be just as weird? Will Minkowski actually force me to do this for twenty-three more days?

HERA

That last one is definitely a yes.

EIFFEL

Find out this and more on our next episode of Stupid Space Adventures: Wolf 359 edition! Goodnight, everybody!

#wolfmas2018

7 notes · View notes

waveridden · 6 years

Text

FIC: and you breathe (one breath at a time)

Lovelace goes somewhere warm, and quiet, where nobody has any idea who she is. Nobody, except for somebody who died in space six years ago.

Wolf 359, post-canon. 7.7k. Gen, Lovelace-centric, some implied/background ships. content warnings for some discussion of death/grief and PTSD.

With all my love to @travismcelrcy, who helped shape the ideas.

Read on Ao3 || title lyric

Sydney is bright in the summer, a constant barrage of sunlight that slams into Isabel full-force the second she steps out of the airport. It was raining when she left Shanghai. Or maybe she’s still not used to sunlight - not blue light or red light or artificial Hephaestus lighting. Honest-to-god sunlight.

Isabel slips a voice recorder out of her pocket and switches it on. “Note to self,” she murmurs, “double-check which vitamins sunlight is supposed to give you. Just in case that matters.” She doesn’t need to record captain’s logs anymore, hasn’t for a long time, but it’s the fastest way to keep track of things. Grocery lists and memories from the old crew and whatever else is worth hanging onto these days.

She left her suitcase back in Brussels, so it’s easy to wander the streets with nothing but a backpack and a vague recollection of places she should visit. She’s never been to Australia before. She’d only left the country once, before the Hephaestus, and that was to go to Niagara Falls for the weekend with some friends in high school.

(Sam had laughed when she told him, and she’d raised her eyebrows, said “You telling me you traveled a lot, Oklahoma boy?” like it was a challenge. It always was a challenge, and maybe she’d feel bad about it if he’d ever stopped rising to the challenge. If he hadn’t met her every step of the way, until-)

There’s a list of names tucked away in her backpack. She’s been trying to visit people who deserve to know what happened. Kuan’s sisters, who grieved by screaming. Victoire’s mother, who’d cried as Isabel told her in halting French what happened to her daughter. Sam’s family, who barely reacted at all. Like they already knew he was dead.

They probably did know, she supposes. It’s not like it was hard to guess.

Sydney’s beautiful. She tries to imagine Mace in the city as she walks through it, slowly. He’s not from Sydney, of course, he’s from some smaller town. He used to talk about it, but she can’t remember the name of it, and of course his files with Goddard don’t exist anymore. There’s next to no proof that he was ever there.

But he was here. She imagines him squinting in the sunlight, trying to read a street sign. She imagines him pointing at some local business and saying that there, Captain, that’s his best friend’s uncle’s ice cream shop. She imagines him painted bright in the sun, laughing with his boyfriend, pushing a stroller.

Isabel blinks. That one felt less imaginary.

He’s gone by the time she looks back, of course. She’s been seeing ghosts for the last month. All of Kuan’s sisters had his smile. Every tall man with a suit and a carefully disarming smile is Cutter. Hell, she even sees shades of Minkowski and Eiffel sometimes, even though she knows both of them are safe and sound back stateside. She’s used to it by now. She should be used to it by now.

She still goes straight to her hotel room. Bolts the door once it’s closed. Moves a chair in front of the door just for good measure. Good things never happen when the dead start showing up again. She knows that better than anyone.

Getting back to Earth goes like this:

Goddard debriefs them. It takes weeks, plural, because nobody’s sure what to do with their story. Two of the most important people in the company are currently space debris, and the third doesn’t even remember her own name. And all the rest of them are officially dead.

It’s Jacobi, actually, who’s most helpful in moving things forward. Lovelace gets the impression that it’s because he wants to get out of there as fast as possible, but she has to admit, it’s nice having someone who knows people. Kepler’s name pulls weight, and by extension so does Jacobi’s. It gets things in motion, even with the gaps in the power structure.

The process is also kept completely secret from the public, which they probably weren’t supposed to figure out. Jacobi guesses as much on the second day, snorts and says “it’d look bad for them to be caught in a lie this big,” and that’s supposed to be that. It’s hard to bring people back to life, in terms of paperwork. Probably a nightmare.

But they’re debriefed. They see doctors, who don’t know what to do with Lovelace, human and also decidedly not. They see therapists, who kind of wave Lovelace off because there’s absolutely nothing in their repertoire that could help them deal with aliens. They sit in corporate meeting after corporate meeting where Lovelace tries to focus on getting out and not how badly she wants to rip this company to shreds.

Goddard lets them go on a Tuesday morning. They reach Minkowski’s husband that night, living just outside of Boston, and all of them pile into a house that seems far too empty for one man. Lovelace gets a bedroom to herself. They figure out how to install Hera in the house, because Doug refuses to let her live in a box. She’s up and running by Wednesday morning.

Jacobi’s gone by Wednesday afternoon without so much as a goodbye. It stings, maybe more than it should, but Lovelace has faith that he’ll come back one day. If only because he’s bored.

By the early hours on Thursday she has a list of cities. Shawnee, Brussels, Shanghai, Sydney. She writes and crosses out Moscow a dozen times - even if Selberg was hers he also decidedly wasn’t, and she doesn’t owe that man any more of her sympathy - and does the same for New York City. Who says you can’t go home? Probably other people whose entire families think they died in space years ago.

She makes a second list for good measure. Victoire used to wax rhapsodic about the summer she spent in Iceland, and Kuan had endless stories about visiting cousins in Hawaii. Sam traveled constantly, which she wouldn’t expect from someone from Oklahoma, but he wanted to see the world. Or, no, he felt like it’d be a shame if he didn’t. A shame? An embarrassment? It’s hard to remember his exact words.

It’s hard to remember his exact voice.

Lovelace lifts her voice recorder, brand new, purchased from a RadioShack with a shiny Goddard-issued credit card. “Get back in touch with Canaveral, see if they have any of Lambert’s old logs somewhere. Shake them down if you have to.”

Isabel Lovelace has a valid passport Thursday night. She says her goodbyes on Friday morning, promises to call and hugs Eiffel a little tighter than she should and leaves. She has more ghosts than the rest of them. It’s time to put them to rest.

The problem, which she learns in Oklahoma, is that as much as she wants to get this over with, she can’t start with the families. She tells Sam’s mother what happened one day, his father the next, and then if she stays in Oklahoma for one more goddamn second she thinks she’s going to suffocate, so she’s in Brussels the day after that.

(“That could just be an effect of Oklahoma,” Minkowski - no, Renee says, when Isabel calls her, now in Brussels and still not quite breathing right. “I mean, I’ve never really been there, but it sounds… like Oklahoma.”

“Maybe,” Isabel allows. “But if I’m going to be here, I should start with the tourist thing, right? Instead of just jumping in with the… bad news.”

“The tourist thing,” Renee echoes, in that voice that means she’s not laughing at Isabel, per se, but she’s definitely laughing and it just so happens that Isabel said something funny. “You mean relaxing?”

“I guess I do.”

“You’ve earned it.”

She has. She’s earned it and re-earned it and the universe probably owes her a full year of not dealing with other people’s problems at this point. “Then maybe I’ll stay in Belgium for a while.”

“Just make sure you call,” Renee says, soft and careful. She never says goodbye, only asks for Isabel to call again. And she always does.)

It takes two weeks in Brussels before she has the stomach to find Victoire’s family. After that she stops over in Moscow for all of two days, just to see the sights, and then it’s three weeks in Shanghai. And of course, by the end of that she’s ready to snap in half, so she takes a week for herself in Thailand to recover.

Sydney is warm, not as warm as Thailand but also sunnier. It’s not quiet, but it’s just her and her ghosts there. And it’s going to take a little more work to track down Fisher’s boyfriend - she knows his name’s Corey, he’s a history teacher, and he lives somewhere reasonably close to Sydney - so she might as well take another break.

She ends up on a beach, one of the quieter ones. It’s a weekday morning so it’s not terribly crowded, just a few families that Isabel makes a point of staying away from, carving out her own quiet corner in the sand. She sets up with a towel and an umbrella and a stack of books that she got from airports and-

-and her phone starts ringing.

Isabel sighs. It’d be easy, it’d be so easy to just ignore it, but the fact is not a lot of people call her. This number isn’t in enough databases to get calls, and it would be… inconsiderate if she didn’t take full advantage of Goddard generously footing all her bills for a little while. Including the bill for international calls.

She smoothly reaches into her backpack, resting a carefully-calculated arm’s length away from her on the sand, and swipes to answer. “You’ve reached the phone of Isabel Lovelace. I’m currently unavailable because I finally got to a real beach where I can relax for a while, so leave a message if-”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is this a bad time?” Hera asks, not sounding sorry at all.

Isabel rests back on her towel. “No, Hera, it’s not. Unless there’s an emergency, because I am halfway around the world right now and can’t help.”

“No emergencies. Thank god.”

She smiles, relaxing a little as she does. “And you’re bored?”

“Horribly.”

“What do you do now that nothing’s constantly going wrong?”

“Not much,” Hera admits. “I’ve been teaching myself new languages.”

“Programming language or human language?”

“A bit of both?”

“Of course,” Isabel says. She thinks idly that maybe she would’ve been sarcastic about that, once upon a time, but now it comes out fond. Indulgent. Hera complained about being in a house and how it was so much smaller than the Hephaestus, but now she has the Internet. There’s only so much complaining she can do with the entirety of human knowledge at her fingertips. “How’s everyone?”

Hera hums. “Minko- uh, Renee- shoot. Is it weird that I’m still having trouble with that?”

“It’s only been two months, Hera.”

“But I talk to her every day.”

“And how many days did you call her Minkowski?”

“More than sixty,” Hera admits. “Okay. Uh, Renee’s looking for jobs, although nobody’s really sure what kind of thing she should look for. Doug’s a waiter now, all the customers love him.”

“And everyone’s in one piece?”

“In one piece.” She says it so proudly that Isabel can’t help but smile. “And Renee’s been helping me practice my French.”

“Do you need to practice?”

“Of course I need to practice, just because I know the whole language doesn’t mean I know how to speak it right.”

“One of these days, you should learn a made-up language. Or make your own.”

“I’ve already looked into making up my own, but it’s not as easy as you might think. It’s kind of a fun side project, it’d be nice to talk to a linguist or something sometime. Figure out how-”

“Lovelace?” says someone, about three feet to her right.

She drops her phone. She hadn’t noticed anyone coming towards her, and these days there’s no way to tell if it’s someone hostile or not. From the other end of the phone Hera says something but Isabel’s hand is already halfway into her bag, where she has a knife waiting for her, and she looks up to see who it is and squints against the sunlight and-

“Lovelace,” says Mace Fisher, like he thinks she’s going to disappear.

Slowly, Isabel pulls her hand away from her backpack and lifts her sunglasses, just as Fisher - it can’t be, it has to be - drops to a crouch, then his knees. His hair’s longer now, curling in loose spirals around his cheeks. He has the same scar down one side of his nose. He’s wearing the most horrific swim trunks that she’s seen in her entire life, and he’s staring, and he’s here.

“Fisher,” she says, and he gulps, and suddenly her eyes are stinging. He sits back on his heels, looking winded, and Isabel remembers her phone. She snatches it up and takes a deep breath. “Hera.”

“Ca- Isabel, what’s going on, is everything okay?”

Is everything okay. Of course, everything’s fine. Just Lovelace and her ghosts again. “I’m going to have to call you back.”

“That’s not a yes.”

“I don’t know yet, Hera.” She’s still watching him, of course she is. He looks somewhere off over Isabel’s shoulder, mouths something that she doesn’t bother to try and understand. He must not be here alone. “It’s… complicated.”

“Are you safe?”

“I think so.”

“Call us back,” Hera says, voice small. “Just- just to be on the safe side.”

“Of course,” Isabel says, and hangs up. Fisher is still there, so that’s a good sign, probably. If this isn’t real then at least her brain is collapsing all at once. Hell, they have no idea what the sun’s radiation is going to do to her weird alien brain. Maybe long-term exposure induces hallucinations. Maybe this is the last thing she sees before her internal organs turn to soup. It could be worse, she figures.

Fisher’s still staring at her.

“So,” she says carefully. “This… is new.”

“You died in space,” Fisher says. “I don’t know if you heard.”

“No, I’ve been told.” She looks him up and down. She listened to him die, during that meteor storm. They all did. “You… also died in space.”

He snorts. “Apparently not.”

They never found a body. Of course they didn’t, it was deep space, but they never had anything to remember him by, other than what he left behind. “Apparently not,” she agrees, and her voice is a little thicker than she expected. “How about that?”

Fisher swallows. “The others-”

Isabel’s breath catches. None of the others had been home, when she visited. “They- Mace-”

“Oh,” Fisher breathes, and lunges forward. Isabel lets him, reaches out, pulls him in. And he feels real, not like a hallucination, not a ghost. He’s as real as she is and he’s squeezing her like he’s trying to make sure of it, one hand pressing her head into the crook of his shoulder. “Captain-”

“Oh, god, don’t call me captain,” she laughs, and he huffs out something like a sob, warm against the back of her neck. “I’m nobody’s captain anymore, got it?”

“Aye-aye,” Fisher says, and fans one of his hands out on her back. Isabel laughs again and her eyes are still stinging but she’s not crying, she can’t cry until she understands. “What are you doing here, anyways?”

Isabel sits back on her heels, keeping one hand pressed against Fisher’s shoulder. Just in case he disappears. He pulls away too, a little reluctantly, but one of his hands drops to her knee. “I was, uh. Trying to say goodbyes, you could call it.”

“Ah,” Fisher says. “I take it you haven’t been back long, then.”

“A couple months.” She shrugs. “Goddard… wasn’t interested in letting us go.”

Fisher raises his eyebrows. “Us.”

“It’s a long story.”

“I can imagine.”

“What about you?” Isabel rubs a hand across her eyes, probably scrubbing salt and sand into them, which has to be why the stinging doesn’t go away. “What… how long have you been back?”

Fisher shrugs. “Five years, give or take.”

“So you got back after the first mission.”

“First mission,” Fisher repeats, something like dread creeping into his voice. “Captain-”

“Isabel.”

“If you’re Isabel then I’m Mace.”

Isabel nods and takes a deep breath. “It’s… a really long story. It’s one I can tell you, but-”

“Daddy!” a child’s voice shouts, from somewhere behind Isabel. Mace is on his feet in a flash, so fast that she barely has time to mourn the loss of contact before he’s off and running. It’s just enough to make her panic, so she whips around, climbing to her feet in the process. Her sunglasses tilt dangerously to one side, threatening to fall off, and she manages to settle them back on her face just as she spots Mace again.

He’s crouching low, looking seriously between two kids. Twins, if Isabel had to guess, both of them dark-haired and olive-skinned. They don’t look anything like Mace, but one of them has the same stubborn mouth, and one has the same honest eyes. His kids, if ever she’s seen them.

Cautiously, she takes a couple of steps closer. Mace doesn’t notice, talking in a low, serious voice to the twins. “Five minutes, alright? Five more minutes on the sand and then we can go back in the water, how does that sound?”

“But Kuan said he’s gonna squish my sand castle,” says the one with Mace’s mouth, and Isabel nearly takes a step back. “And I don’t want him to!”

Mace looks seriously at the twin with his eyes. “Kuan.”

“I’m not gonna squish it,” Kuan mutters. “But Sam said his was better than mine, and that’s not nice. ”

Mace turns back to the other twin, looking exasperated. “Sam-”

“Mine’s better,” Sam protests, but he falters instantly and turns to his brother. “I’m sorry, Kuan. You’re right, it wasn’t nice.”

“I’m sorry I said I was gonna squish yours,” Kuan says seriously. “That wasn’t nice either.”

“Good job, boys,” Mace says, and both of the twins brighten up instantly. It figures that Mace would have the most well-adjusted kids Isabel has ever seen. “Daddy just needs three more minutes to talk to his friend, and-”

“Friend?” Sam demands, and both twins turn to her immediately, with that uncanny perceptive stare that children always have.

Isabel’s hands are shaking. She notices it sort of absently, the same way she notices there’s a man with a sleeping baby lying on his chest watching them intently, the same way she notices that the only clouds in the sky are wispy and light and dreamlike. Like it doesn’t affect her that she’s having trouble breathing.

She glances at Mace, over the tops of her sunglasses, and he nods slightly, so she takes a couple steps forward and drops into a crouch next to him. “Hi, guys.”

“You’re friends with Daddy?” asks Kuan.

Isabel nods. “I am. I used to work with him, a long time ago.”

“In space?”

“Yes, in space.”

“Whoa,” Kuan whispers. “Was he cool?”

“The coolest.”

Mace snorts and nudges her with his shoulder, still as solid and real as anything. “Second after you, maybe.”

“Oh, definitely,” Isabel says, with an exaggerated nod, and both of the twins giggle. “But, you know, it’s hard to measure up to me.”

“Daddy’s cool!” Sam bounces up and down. “This one time, this one time he was making pancakes, and he flipped them in the air!”

“In the air?” Isabel repeats, trying to sound like it’s the coolest thing she’s ever heard. “You know, that might just be cooler than me.”

“Never, Captain,” Mace mumbles, and Isabel rolls her eyes. Maybe she shouldn’t teach kids to roll their eyes, but if they’re living with Mace, they’re probably going to be supernaturally patient. Someone has to teach them. “Boys, we can go in the water as soon as I’m done talking to Miss Isabel, alright?”

“Miss Isabel?” Kuan turns so he’s looking at her and leans in, putting his face very, very close to hers. It takes all her self control not to pull back. Children can smell fear, or something. “Like baby Izzy?”

“Baby Izzy,” Isabel repeats. “Is that… a TV show, or something?”

Kuan giggles. “No, silly, it’s our sister!”

“Sister,” Isabel echoes, feeling like a broken record. They have a sister named Isabel. That can’t be right. She turns, carefully, to look at Mace, who is staring intently at the sand by her feet. “Mace.”

“Middle name’s Victoire,” he mumbles, and meets her eyes, looking sheepish. “There’s not a lot else you can do to remember people, these days.”

She understands. When the world has already mourned and moved on, when Isabel’s mission to say her goodbyes was met only with acceptance and grief that’s still heavy on her skin, there’s not much else to do, other than remembering. He had to grieve already, without her.

“Mace,” she says again, her throat so thick that it hurts to say. She swallows a couple times, until she feels like she can breathe again, and says, “We can talk later.”

“Yeah?” Mace says, and she wonders if he expected her to want to talk to him. He looks so… hopeful.

“Yeah.” She takes a deep breath. “I can… you know, I brought books. I have a cell phone that I mostly understand how to use. I can kill time.”

Mace laughs. “Yeah, those have changed a lot. You want to come in the water with us?”

Isabel has gone swimming once, in the last two months. It was in a Goddard facility, for some kind of fitness check-up. It’d been nice at first, cool and refreshing. Chlorine is one of those things that she’d forgotten, not unlike the exact flavor of potato chips and how to talk to children, and she’d even appreciated the sting in her eyes.

It’d taken eight minutes and forty-one seconds, as per her official Goddard chart, before the panic set in. Before the water stopped feeling like water, and all she knew was that she was floating, and if she was floating she must’ve been back in space, back on the Hephaestus, and if she was on the station then she wasn’t safe, and-

Nine minutes. A new record, said the Goddard tech who was observing her. Most former astronauts don’t even make it to five.

“Maybe later,” Isabel says. As long as her feet are on the ground, she should be fine.

“She can sit with me,” someone says, off to one side. It’s the man with the sleeping baby, still watching them. He has one hand resting on the baby’s back, and he looks relaxed, but his eyes are as sharp as anything she’s ever seen. “If you want.”

Isabel nods slowly. “I think I’d like that.”

Mace reaches out and brushes some sand off one of Isabel’s knees, leaving his hand to rest on her thigh. “Alright.”

“Alright,” Isabel repeats, and looks back at the twins. “Sam. Kuan.” She has to take a deep breath, because fuck, even that is hard to say, isn’t it? How does Mace do it every day? “It was very nice meeting you.”

“You too,” Kuan says, very seriously. Just like any kid trying to pretend to be a grown-up. It reminds her of Hui, of her Kuan.

“Are you gonna still be Daddy’s friend?” Sam asks. “Because you look like a good friend.”

A good friend. A good captain who lost her crew and barely scraped out with her second crew. A good person trying to say her goodbyes.

“I will be his friend,” she says. It’s too awkward and stilted for a kid but it’s all she can manage. Friends are hard to come by these days.

Mace squeezes her leg and gets to his feet. “Who’s ready to go in the ocean!”

The twins both scream in excitement, and Isabel glances back at the man who is most certainly Corey. “You mind if I bring my things over?”

“Course not,” Corey says, amiable as anything. “Although I hope you don’t mind that I’m going to be asking you a few questions.”

Isabel smiles faintly. None of them talked about Their People Back Home too often, at least not in the first few hundred days, but she still remembers Mace talking about his boyfriend. He used to say Corey was smart. And suspicious. She can see that already.

As soon as she settles in next to him, Corey points out towards the water. “I had to come to Sydney for a work conference. It was Mace’s idea to make a trip out of it and bring the kids, and he’s been wrangling all three of them by himself for most of the week.”

Isabel follows where he’s pointing. Mace is in the shallows of the ocean, each twin holding his hand. Every time a wave comes in, no matter how small, they all try to jump over it. She can hear the twins shrieking and laughing, and Mace laughing with them. “How old are they?”

“They turned four last month.” Corey smiles faintly. “He was self-conscious about the name thing. Originally it was going to be Samuel Kuan, and then we found out we’d be adopting twins.”

“And you were okay with it?”

“Of course. My boyfriend comes back from space, from the actual dead, and says he wants to name the kids after the people he lost? What kind of a person would say no?”

Isabel nods, and looks at the baby still asleep on Corey’s chest. “She’s quiet.”

Corey snorts and strokes the baby’s - Izzy’s back, smiling down at her. “Tired herself out screaming earlier.”

“I hear that babies do that.”

“You have no idea.”

“How did he come back?”

“We’re still not sure,” Corey admits, and looks back out towards Mace and the twins. “He says the last thing he remembers is getting knocked off the station by a meteor, and then next thing he knows he’s back on the station two years later with nobody but that doctor of yours there.”

Something cold creeps up Isabel’s spine. “And what did the good doctor do?”

“Lied to everyone who came to rescue them.”

“Lied?”

“Said that there was some kind of misunderstanding, that Mace had been with them the whole time in a coma.” Corey shakes his head. “They made it back to Earth and Selburg disappeared. Mace looks for him sometimes.”

“That’s good of him,” Isabel says, because it is. Even if Hilbert doesn’t deserve a damn good thing anymore. Even if he infected Mace with Decima for the sake of research, for some greater good that turned out to be no good at all. Maybe it was his penance, bringing Mace back to Earth. After all, he knew the theta scenario. He probably knew there was no point in running experiments on an alien.

“You don’t sound like you mean it.” Corey looks at her, eyes narrowing. “Do you know how he came back?”

Isabel exhales. “I do.”

Corey takes a deep breath. “I’m not going to ask you to explain, but Mace will.”

“I know.”

“And be careful, when you do. Whatever it is, he already has questions.”

“What kind of questions?

“Doctors have been saying he’s in peak condition for the last five years. They also keep saying that he breaks some of their equipment.”

Psi waves, Isabel thinks. Psi waves, or alien biology, or one of those other things that Pryce and Cutter went on and on about.

Because he’s like her.

“I’ll be careful,” she says, and turns away from Corey’s eyes, back towards the shoreline. One of the twins jumps too high and crashes to his knees in the water. Mace lets go of his hand, just long enough to scoop him up and balance him on his hip. “I’ll tell him the truth, if he asks, but I’m not going to scare him away or anything.”

“Good,” Corey says quietly. “And I know we’ve never met before, but I’m glad you’re not dead.”

Isabel quirks a smile. “Thanks. I’m glad he came back to you.”

“Me too,” Corey murmurs. Mace picks up the other twin now, holding them both carefully, like it’s nothing. Like he was made to hold them. “Me too.”

Mace and Corey have to leave first, because when you have three kids you need to feed them lunch. They leave Isabel with Mace’s phone number, Corey’s number in case Mace’s phone dies, and a small collection of seashells that Kuan picked out for her.

(“I didn’t get her anything,” Sam whispers, looking absolutely horrified, and then proceeds to dump a child-size fistful of sand on each of Isabel’s thighs. “Is mud good for your skin?”

Mace, who’s reapplying sunscreen on Kuan, takes one look at Isabel’s face and laughs so hard that he has to sit down.)

And then they’re gone, and it’s Isabel, by herself on a beach. Just like she wanted.

The breeze keeps blowing. The air still tastes like salt. The waves keep crashing on the sand. There are still families around, but a few have filtered out, probably to go to lunch or school or whatever else families in Sydney have to do. Maybe they’re on vacation. Maybe they’re just passing through. Maybe she’s just passing through, although she’s not sure where exactly she’ll go after this. She still has that list: Reykjavik for Victoire, Honolulu for Kuan, Sao Paulo and Quebec and Copenhagen and San Francisco for Sam. Disneyland. New York. Boston.

She doesn’t remember getting to her feet, but the next thing she knows she’s standing in the shallows. The water’s around her ankles, lapping against her calves, gritty with sand and salt. It feels good. It’s grounding.

She’s holding her cell phone. Slowly, she punches in the numbers and holds her breath.

Renee picks up on the second ring. “Hey! I was just about to call you, I got a package from Goddard today. Apparently they archived all of your crew’s old logs on analog recorders. Less of a chance of a hacker accidentally finding some of Goddard’s dirty laundry. Hera and Dom are going to try and convert them to digital for you, although you can always come pick them up in person.”

Isabel swallows. The world seems too bright, suddenly. She’s not used to the sunlight, she might never be used to the sunlight again, she spent seven years in deep space and she was dead for three of those. Or maybe she was only alive for two of them.

She remembers Lambert’s voice. Or maybe she just remembers a ghost of it. It’d be another thing, another thing entirely, to have his logs. Or to have him in front of her. The way Mace was.

“Isabel?” Renee says cautiously. “Are you there?”

“There’s a baby here named after me,” Isabel says abruptly. It seems like the easiest entry point.

Renee goes quiet. Isabel takes the opportunity to lower herself so she’s sitting in the water. She’d forgotten what sand felt like, but it’s the kind of muddy sand that’s easy to bury your toes in. She has one foot halfway covered in mud when Renee finally says, cautiously, “We’ve only been back for two months.”

“I know.”

“That’s not enough time for that to happen.”

“She was adopted.”

“Who adopted her?”

“Mace Fisher, from my old crew.”

Another silence. This one only lasts long enough for Isabel to get the toes of her other foot into the sand, before: “Is there some kind of an explanation for this?”

“I think it’s another theta scenario.” She pauses. “Actually, I’m sure of it, because the only other option is that I just vividly hallucinated a two-hour encounter with five people, only one of whom I’d ever met before.”

“Who were the other four?”

“His partner and kids.”

“You never met them?”

“Never had the chance. Kids are all under the age of four anyways. For all I know-” Isabel swallows, hoping it wasn’t too obvious that her voice cracked. For all she knows it was just wishful thinking.

Renee sighs noisily. “Did you look them up on Facebook?”

“What?”

“Facebook. Finding a profile page to see if you were imagining them.”

Isabel blinks. “No.”

“Alrighty then,” Renee says briskly. It’s kind of a comfort: all business, no question of what it means if Isabel is seeing things, just another fact-finding mission. Isabel can hear her tap a few buttons, and then: “Hera, you busy?”

“No,” Hera says immediately. “No, I’m- Isabel! You hung up so fast earlier, was everything okay?”

“I ran into one of my old crew members,” Isabel says, as no-nonsense as she possibly can. Renee’s certainly not fooled, but Hera just might be, if she plays her cards right. “We’re trying to figure out what’s going on.”

“We’re looking for a Facebook page,” Renee explains. “Or some other kind of social media.”

“Ooooh, finally, something interesting!”

Isabel grins. She can’t see Renee, all the way in Massachusetts, but she can still imagine Renee grinning back at her. “I don’t have a lot for you to go on,” she warns. “His name is Mason Fisher, and his partner’s name is Corey.”

“Last name?”

“Don’t know.”

“Occupation?”

“Corey’s a history teacher, or at least he was seven years ago. Mace was in the military.”

“Anything else?”

“They have three kids, Sam, Kuan, and Izzy.”

“And they live in Australia?”

“Yes. Although I’m not sure where.”

Hera hums to herself. “You sure like to give a girl a challenge, I’ll tell you that. And my first Facebook search isn’t picking up anything.”

Isabel’s heart hiccups in her throat. “Nothing?”

“Not yet, but I started with all the parameters in place and I’m broadening the search as we go.”

“Try the other sites too,” Renee suggests. “Twitter, or Instagram, or whatever people are using these days.”

“I’m already running those too,” Hera says. Isabel knows that tone of voice. It’s the “I don’t want to tell you my systems are failing, but they are” voice. “I’m still not seeing anything. And I’m running Corey with an E-Y, Cory with just a Y, I’m putting K’s in there-”

“Have you tried LinkedIn?” a new voice says. “If they’re trying to fly under the radar, which they very well might be, they won’t be on Facebook, but most professionals are on there these days.”

“Oooh,” Renee says softly. “Good one, Dom.”

“Thank you. Hi, Isabel.”

“Hi, Dominik.”

“Are you still in Thailand?” Dominik asks, sounding completely unbothered by the fact that his wife’s best friend is searching for evidence of someone who might not exist. Isabel likes that about him. He takes everything in stride.

“Australia, actually.”

“Staying in the warm half of the world, I see.”

Isabel snorts. “Yeah, it’s great, it’s always sunny in Sydney.”

“Oh, god,” Renee mutters. “You know, it’s crazy to say this, but I’m still not used to the sun. Like, the actual sun, you know what I mean? Heat that isn’t from a vent, light that isn’t from a bulb…”

“Or a star outside the window,” Isabel adds. “And isn’t blue.”

“Isn’t blue!” Renee snaps her fingers. “I keep expecting everything to be blue!”

“And way colder.”

“God, way colder. And I keep forgetting about gravity.”

Isabel laughs, a little more wetly than she intends, but she can’t help it. “Earlier today I was lying on the beach, reading a book, and I went to put the book down-”

“Oh, no,” Renee laughs, like she’s already figured out the punchline to the joke. Or already lived it out a dozen times over.

“Except, of course, I just let go of it, and it fell-” Isabel smacks her knee with one hand. “Right into my solar plexus.”

Dom chuckles. “Hopefully it wasn’t too heavy.”

“Eh, just an airport paperback. Heaviest thing about it was the main character’s tragic backstory.” She sighs. “Worst part was that I cursed loudly on a public beach and almost woke up a sleeping baby, but-”

“Check your phone,” Hera says suddenly. “Is this him?”

Isabel pulls her phone away from her ear and looks at it. The message from Hera opens on its own, as messages from Hera are wont to do. It’s a professional headshot, much cleaner and more put-together than he��d been on the beach.

“Yeah,” Isabel says, a little winded. “That’s Corey.”

“Awesome,” Hera says, clearly relieved. “Corey Rapp, that’s C-O-R-E-Y, has a LinkedIn profile, thank you, Dominik. He’s still a history teacher at a secondary school north of Sydney. Government records show he adopted twins about four years ago and a daughter last year, like you said. No evidence of a spouse or partner, at least not on the record, but knowing what Goddard’s like, that doesn’t mean anything. Doesn’t look like Corey has a Facebook or anything under his own name.”

“Neither do I,” Renee points out. “If anything that makes them smart. Means they’re watching out.”

“Good choice,” Dominik murmurs. Isabel agrees, would say as much if she could remember how to breathe.

Mace is here. He’s alive, more than six years after he died, and he’s also definitely an alien. She’s going to have to tell him. Maybe Corey, too, depending on how Mace takes it. She’s not the only one in the world, and somehow, that’s worse than if she were alone. At least if it were just her she wouldn’t have anything to feel guilty about.

“Lovelace,” Renee says quietly.

Isabel blinks. Her skin is hot. Right. Sunlight. Beach. She’s here. “Hey.”

“You okay?”

“I’m good.”

“Hera and Dom left,” Renee says cautiously. “You kinda went dark for a minute there. Anything you wanna talk about?”

“Not really.”

“How about things you don’t want to talk about?”

“Oh, there are way more of those, don’t worry.”

“I’d be more worried if there weren’t,” Renee admits. “So. You found your alien crewmate who survived the most unlikely series of events that any human has experienced.”

“You really think that’s more unlikely than what we went through?”

“Eh.” Isabel can picture the accompanying shrug, almost jokingly nonchalant. “It’s gotta be on the list, right? Anything involving aliens is… up there.”

“Oh, up there,” Isabel mutters, and Renee makes a soft noise that somehow sounds like a smile. “How’s Doug?”

“Definitely the most well-adjusted out of all of us.”

“Hera said he got a job?”

“He works the night shift at Olive Garden. Customers love him.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah,” Renee says, and then goes quiet, and Isabel feels… bad, for a few seconds. She’d been with Renee and Doug for a while, but what they’d had, the casual trust and the years of determination to survive, was irreplaceable. Doug-and-Renee is never going to be the same as Eiffel-and-Minkowski.

“How about you?” Isabel asks, and then kind of wants to kick herself. That’s not necessarily a better talking point.

Renee hums. “Better than I’ve been. Dom and I decided I can’t go back to the military, what with being legally dead, so I’ve been trying to put together the case against Goddard.”

“By yourself?”

“With Hera, sometimes.”

“So by yourself.”

“Mostly,” Renee admits. “I was going to wait for you to come back, but…”

But this trip was supposed to take two weeks, tops, and Isabel hasn’t come back yet. But she has a second list of places to visit. But now she found somewhere else that she could stay for a while. But you can’t plan on someone who might not come back, don’t you know that by now, Captain?

“I’ll help once I’m back,” Isabel says, which she figures is the most honest thing she can say. When she’s ready she’s going to burn Goddard to the ground. Which reminds her: “Have you heard anything from Jacobi?”

“Not yet.”

“And you haven’t tracked him down?”

“Isabel,” Renee chides. “He’s an adult, he’s not my responsibility, and if his way of handling it is leaving, then I’m not here to judge him for it.”

“So that’s a no,” Isabel says, and grins when Renee groans. “He’ll turn up sooner or later.”

“Yeah, I know. And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Fisher’s alive,” Renee says, like Isabel could have possibly forgotten. “You’re not the only theta scenario. You’re in another new country by yourself. Take your pick. I have a couple reasons to be worried here.”

And Isabel thinks about it, actually thinks about it. It’d be easy to lie, sure, but Renee would know, and she figures if they’re in this whole space trauma business together she might as well be honest.

She pulls one of her feet out of the sand, sticking it into the water. “I'm coping,” she says slowly. “It’s early yet in the process. I think I might be going through the opposite of the five stages of grief.”

“Is that going through the stages in backwards order or experiencing the opposite of each stage?”

“I’ll let you know.”

“Thinking you were hallucinating could be a form of denial,” Renee says, far too thoughtful. “Or the opposite of acceptance? Is that how it works?”

“I don’t know, shrinks gave up on me, remember?” Isabel’s phone buzzes in her hand, and she glances at the screen. “Mace is calling me.”

“Then answer!”

“Okay,” Isabel says, and then, “Thank you.”

Renee doesn’t ask what she’s thanking her for. She’s smart like that. “Any time. Time zones don’t matter, just call.”

“I will,” Isabel says. It’s not quite a lie. “Talk to you soon, Renee.”

“Talk to you soon, Isabel.”

Isabel swipes over to answer. “Mace.”

“Isabel,” Mace says brightly. She almost doesn’t catch the note of surprise. “I realized I forgot to ask how long you’re in Sydney.”

“Until I leave.”

“No dates?”

“Well, you know, international travel gets a lot easier when a multibillion dollar company is footing the bill.”

“Huh,” Mace says. “Well, if you’re not busy tonight-”

“Isabel,” Renee says, sounding far too amused, and Isabel almost jumps out of her skin in surprise. “You didn’t hang up on me.”

Isabel frowns. “Apparently not. Did I make it a conference call?”

“You’re still not used to the new phone,” Renee says smugly, which is completely unfair. Phones have changed a lot in seven years, and Isabel is entitled to a few moments of staggering confusion. “That’s okay, you know.”

“Took me a while to get used to it too,” Mace says, in what’s probably supposed to be a sympathy move. “Touch screens and all.”

“You must be Mace Fisher,” Renee says, and Isabel’s breath catches. It’s so outrageously her, making a point of acknowledging that she can hear the person on the other end of the phone. “I’m Renee Minkowski. Former commander of the final mission to the USS Hephaestus Station, which is currently space dust.”

“Can’t say I’m sad to hear about that,” Mace admits. “And Captain, you owe me… so many explanations for all of that.”

“Many, many explanations,” Isabel agrees. “I can pay for drinks too.”

“I’ll leave you two to make plans now.” Renee pauses, and Isabel can feel the smugness from thousands of miles away. It’s strangely comforting. “Isabel, don’t worry, I can hang up on my own.”

“I’m so happy for you,” Isabel says as dryly as possible. “I’ll call you soon, Renee.”

“You’d better,” Renee says, and then there’s a soft beep.

Isabel exhales. “So. Drinks?”

“I probably shouldn’t leave my hotel, if Corey’s alone with the kids, but-”

“Hotel bar?”

“Hotel bar. I’ll send you the address.”

“Let me know when it’s a good time to come.”

“I will.” Mace pauses. “So, we can talk about this later, but…”

“But?”

“Renee, hm?”

Isabel groans. “Mace.”

“Are you guys close?”

“Come on.”

“No, I’m just saying, you sounded happy to talk to her.”

“That’s because I was.”

“Good,” Mace says, sounding pleased. “I have to run now, I just wanted to call and check.”

“Yeah,” she says softly. “I’ll see you tonight, Mace.”

“I’ll see you tonight,” he echoes, and then there’s that soft beep again, and Isabel’s alone on the beach.

One of her feet is still buried in the sand. Carefully, she wiggles her toes. The mud squishes between them. It almost tickles, and she can feel some of the sand dissolving in the water. The shallows are still lapping around her, against her hips, her thighs, one hand that she plants in the sand while she cradles her phone in the other.

There was a point where she thought she’d never make it back to a beach. She hadn’t been to many beaches before space, and definitely not many with actual oceans. The Air Force isn’t exactly interested in destination resorts, after all. But here she is. Sitting on a beach in Sydney.

Isabel swirls her hand through the water, letting the sand cloud around her. She never thought she would feel sand again. Or sun. Or the sheer gratitude of knowing that someone else made it out alive. She has another list, one that’s been getting longer: things she’s getting to experience again. Maybe for the first time, depending how you look at it.

Sydney is bright in the summer. There are people waiting for her in Boston, and a list of cities she has to visit. There’s a stack of books on the beach, next to her backpack, underneath an umbrella. She should go back to those and make some kind of progress, or at the very least make sure nobody takes her book before she can finish it.

She stays in the ocean, just a little longer. It’s not every day that she gets the chance.

#wolf 359 #wolf 359 fic #w359 fic #isabel lovelace #mace fisher #waveridden.fic #i'm not tagging anything else this is already niche as fuck

26 notes · View notes

cartograffiti · 3 years

Text

first line challenge

Post your the first line of the last 20 things you’ve written. Then tag 20 people to do the same. (Thanks to @storieswelove for the tag!)

Going to do fiction only, and out of order!

The Penumbra Podcast

1) “Sir Damien slept poorly.” (I smelled no salt, I felt no sand)

2) “Once the siege and assault of the First Citadel had ceased, / With the city a smoke-heap of cinders and ash, / The monsters’ approach laced with the truest treachery on earth; / Three brothers, sainted hence, there made their stand.” (Sir Arum and the Green Knight)

3) “‘My dear Juno, you find your way into the most int-er-es-ting places.’” (Unless His Heart is a Metaphor for His Heart)

4) “The first time, after the important words have been said (’I love you’ and ‘There’s nothing to forgive’ and ‘Trust me’ and ‘Can we?’ and ‘Damn, you’re so beautiful’), Juno makes it oh-so-easy for Peter.” (The Seduction of Peter Nureyev)

5) “’Right then, what’s this little fluffer called?’” (Roses 2: Electric Boogaloo)

6) “The vines crept through their open bedroom window while they were all out of the house in the morning, and now they have spread themselves into a bower across the ceiling, vine ends curling and dangling into the room throughout.” (The Honey of Our Lit Up Veins)

7) “Mister Steel attracts a lot of really interesting people.” (5 times Peter Nureyev dressed up for Juno Steel, and 1 time he didn’t)

Queen’s Thief

8) “Eugenides shut the heavy door behind the little Erondites and stifled a chuckle.” (Atté, Atté)

9) “‘We can finally have some privacy,’ Helen said, in an exaggerated grumble that told Sophos she had been restraining herself behind a polite facade.” (I Try to Talk Refined)

10) “‘Stop! Thief!’ a voice called out from somewhere higher up the palace wall.” (Not my line, from the round robin fic Attolian Skies)

11) “It was always going to be excruciating.” (The Curse and Right of Thieves)

Friends at the Table

12) “The sound of waves, distant in his ears, and then it seems as though the water rushes to him, pulling him to Aubade with a riptide.” (Supplication, Death, and the Sea)

Star Trek

13) “Joann Owosekun fell in love at the court-martial of Michael Burnham, Master and Commander of the HMS Discovery.” (Let's Go Far Away)

The Magnus Archives

14) “Dear Jonathan: You will find enclosed a copy of one of my case memoirs, as it has come to my attention, via mutual acquaintances, that you are collating information regarding several persons encountered therein.” (Statement of The Admiral)

The Merry Spinster: The Thankless Child

15) “Paul was all right now, earnestly if not honestly all right, now that she’d had some water.” (Serpent's Tooth)

Wolf 359

16) “‘Happy New Year,’ Hera says, and Eiffel laughs.” (Hungry Like the Wolf 359)

Star Wars

17) “The worst thing about Rey isn’t her recklessness, or how much she pesters.” (Two Rainbows over Ach-to)

The Adventure Zone: Balance

18) “Kravitz was dead, to begin with.” (The Body Eclectic)

Daredevil

19) “High summer: fry an egg on the sidewalk, no breeze, hold your limbs apart so they don’t stick to each other.” (In Any Universe)

Original fiction

20) “It is March, and I love my island more than I have ever loved anyone, excepting my daughter, and it brings me more joy than any little luxury, including real chocolate.” (The Lighthouse at Godsend, ask me for link if you want to read it.)

And tagging nobody at all, because I’ve seen a lot of my writer friends get tagged already!

#SpaceJackalope #my fic

0 notes

aristocraticundyne · 7 years

Text

Things That Break - Wolf 359

Daniel Jacobi was, by definition, a pretty horrific person. By the age of 20 he was already responsible for thousands of deaths, isolated from whatever family he had left, and presumed dead himself by his 26th birthday. He was stoic and blunt, to a level of which usually much concern would be raised. But Jacobi was also talented at all the wrong things, chemistry, technology, clockwork. Bombs, explosives, tuning out the dying screams of thousands. Daniel Jacobi was trigger happy. Warren Kepler was also a pretty horrific person, for different reasons. He was successful, charming and mysterious. He was high up in the rankings of Goddard Futuristics business which meant he had authority and exercised it regularly. Kepler was a smart man, a professional man, but he lacked an army, he lacked tools, pawns to lead. Space travel was never a real consideration for him, he was paperwork and fountain pens and black ties. But there were some loose ends Cutter needed cleared up, and Kepler was more than happy to do the dirty work if it payed off for him in the long term. The Hephaestus station had been compromised, which wasn't really part of the plan, and Kepler had to go up there and take back control. Renée Minkowski, the only person up there that Kepler believed had any brain cells, had let her team slip. Goddard Futuristics favourite insane doctor Hillbert had completely ran off course, Escaped Convict Doug Eiffel was missing in action floating somewhere in the abyss of Wolf 359, Unit 214 kept breaking and Captain Isabella Lovelace had returned from the deep depths of literal death. This was one hell of a loose end. Warren Kepler compiled a team, his pawns. Super Scientist Alana Maxwell who was one hacked password away from the wrong side of the law and our dearest genocidal bomb expert, Daniel Jacobi. Skip to 4 months later, and it was the day before the Contact Event day. Where all Goddard Futuristics work built up to this moment, finalised proof of alien contact. Wolf 359 was unpredictable, no one knew what it would disperse out or what the effects would be on their ship or crew, but one thing was for sure; Kepler's ratings would go through the roof. He sat back in his leather chair, eyes closed and scotch in hand, dreaming of a life back on Earth. Dreaming of a reality where he could march into Cutter's office and show him he was worth it, worth the faked deaths and conspiracies and coverups, that it was worth breaking Doug Eiffel of all men out of prison, that it was worth letting Hillbert loose on the crew. He would be so proud of him. A small smile spread across his face at the thought. "Sir?" There was a crackled voice on the coms system, patched directly into Kepler's room, a private call. He recognised the voice. "Jacobi, it's late. What do you want?" Kepler's voice was smooth and calm like the midday sea. He always tried to deal with Jacobi kindly, he was a troubled boy but he meant well, and he was always loyal. "I think there's something we need to discuss, Sir, it's about the Contact Event" Kepler's smile faded a little and his mind switched to work-mode. There were so many things that could go wrong with the Contact Event that it barely warranted thinking about. "You can come in, Jacobi" Kepler said. After a few moments Jacobi was leaning on the side of Kepler's desk, thick boots to compensate for the weird gravity up here, Goddard Futuristics company blue overalls rolled down and tied at the waist, white tank top and grey slouchy hoodie. Jacobi didn't own and item of clothing that wasn't decorated with burn marks or oil stains or chemical stains, he was a scruffy kid, with barely any manners. "Sir..." Jacobi pointed upwards and stared at Kepler's disapproving expression. Unit 214 was always watching, listening, it was her job but it was also an inconvenience. Privacy was not an option on this ship. Kepler sighed and cleared his throat. "Hera...block out all sensory details you acquire from this room and regulate the oxygen and temperature levels. Jacobi and I need to have a private chat." Kepler always spoke like he was making a request, however everyone knew it was a blatant command. Hera, Unit 214, glitched slightly, she always did. Maxwell said they were working on it but everyone was aware that 'Working on it' simply isn't enough. "Yes Sir, removing all sensory system updates from your room" She said calmly and then the coms system went quiet. Jacobi visibly relaxed. "They are planning something" He said, staring at the wall. "We know they are, and we are on top of it. Right Jacobi?" Kepler raised an eyebrow. Jacobi nodded, his gaze falling to the floor. "Everything's covered Sir. If Lovelace or Hilbert try their secret room trick, all I have to do it click a button and-" He illustrated an explosion with his spread out palms and fingers. "And the others?" Kepler asked. "Maxwell has Hera sorted, Eiffel is harmless and Minkowski is nothing without her crew. Sorted" Jacobi turned to face Kepler, still not smiling. "Now now, I wouldn't say that Doug Eiffel is harmless, he is a convicted criminal" Kepler smiled wide as he reminded Jacobi of that, yet it was still a kind smile. Jacobi shrugged "Yeah well there's no children here for him to endanger so I think we will be okay" he looked back to the floor with a smirk. Kepler's smile lingered as he looked over Jacobi's features. "Jacobi, tomorrow is very important" The younger man tsked, a movement that bobbed his whole body a little "You told my family I was dead, perhaps I'll finally get to live up to their expectations after tomorrow." "Now now..." Kepler interrupted him "I don't want that negative attitude..." His hand landed on Jacobi's thigh. They had touched before, it was surprisingly rare to make any bodily contact up here because everyone was so busy and there simply wasn't any need for it. But a million miles away from Earth, the warmth of another human's skin was somewhat comfortable. Kepler often found himself with his arm around Jacobi's shoulders or waist, or with their hands touching, Jacobi's dirt clad, overworked hands tightly gripping Kepler's neatly cared for and large ones in times of stress. Not because Kepler needed the support, but because he felt Jacobi did. So it was no surprise when Jacobi didn't even flinch at the feeling of Kepler's heavy reassuring hand on his thigh. He was too caught up in his thoughts to notice it. "Jacobi-" "Do we get funerals out here, Sir? Or will you just throw my body into the atmosphere and let the star take it considering my family buried me 4 years ago" Jacobi stared at the wall as he spoke. Kepler smirked "Jacobi, you are over thinking things, tomorrow will be fine. Whatever happens, happens!" He smiled warmly and took a sip of his drink. Jacobi nodded slowly, and rested his hand ontop of Kepler's. "Tonight could be our last night alive, Sir" Kepler put his drink down "Technically it's always night time here, it's space..." Jacobi rolled his eyes and looked at Kepler "You know what I mean" He mumbled. The younger man stood up and walked around to sit on Kepler's desk right infront of him. Kepler leaned back with a chuckle as Jacobi looked him up and down. A full suit and tie, as always. "Sir, What do you miss about Earth?" Kepler noted how Jacobi's voice lilted like a school girl's as he spoke, asking a question to the only teacher and role model he had left. "Available booze, the order of it all, proper toilets, appropriately placed kitchen knives for me to stab you with when you get annoying" Kepler's lips curled into a smile and Jacobi chuckled, although they both knew that Kepler wouldn't hesitate to actually do so. "Did you have a wife? Kids?" Jacobi asked. Kepler shook his head and looked down to his own lap "Always too busy, I also despised the idea entirely. And you?" Jacobi laughed and smiled warmly "Can you imagine me meeting someone? 'So Daniel, what do you do for fun?' 'Oh I make explosives and I'm technically a terrorist, how's your meal?' Yeah no" Kepler chuckled deeply and looked to Jacobi "Isn't that how we met?" He reached both hands to explore Jacobi's thighs, he was a skinny boy, but Kepler still gained a sense of comfort and relaxation from slowly stroking knee to hip with open palms. Jacobi glanced at his hands "Yeah but you were recruiting me. It's different" he said shortly. Kepler sighed and dragged his hands away "Can I enjoy my scotch in peace now or is there something else you've thought of to say that's worth my time?" Jacobi thought for a moment "I guess I just wanna say that I'm thankful to be able to be part of this team. It's been an honour to serve under you Sir" He stood up and started to leave. Kepler had a ghost of a smile on his face "Sure...Jacobi, I'm not going to let you die alone tomorrow" His hand caught Jacobi's. Kepler needed something. A distraction, comfort, reassurance, he wasn't sure. Tomorrow was going to be hell. He would have to deal with the star freaking out, alien activity and half his crew turning against him. If he thought about it any longer he felt as though his composed and calm mind would split. Jacobi was scared. He was sure tomorrow's events would kill him, either the star or his fellow crew mates. And if he survived this, his friends might not, Kepler might not, and what would they do without a leader? He thought of his family and his mother, how they have already grieved for him. They wouldn't even notice his death now. Then he felt Kepler's firm hand in his, a contrast from the cold metal he was used to holding. He took a breath and slowly sat down again on his desk. Kepler stood up slowly, ending up between Jacobi's legs. He ran his hands up his thighs and to his hips and pressed their bodies together. Jacobi made a soft noise and melted against Kepler's strong frame, he closed his eyes and it was like being back in bed, his own bed at home in his quiet apartment surrounded by thick blankets and gentle heat. Kepler indulged himself in the feeling of another person's body in his arms, Jacobi was shorter and skinnier but the way his spine arched in to pressed against him, the way his hair smelt like chemicals and sweat and hard trustworthy work, and the way his breathing was soft and fragile in his ear but his heart pounded and fluttered in his chest, he was perfect. "Jacobi, I'm not going to let you die tomorrow" "You can't control that. We never know what the star is gonna do!" Jacobi's voice was low yet angry. "We know that something big is going to happen, we have everything ready and prepared. I trust that you have done what needs to be done. That being said...in the event that something does happen to you.." Kepler sighed with his whole body. For the first time, he fully considered losing Jacobi. It would be a loss to the team, he knew was to do in every situation, he was loyal and not always trouble. But Jacobi was also a pain in the ass, he was quick witted and opinionated. Kepler found his hands wandering up Jacobi's back, into his rough blonde hair, the younger male felt so right in his arms. "...If anything does happen to you, I'll hold you just like this..." Kepler finished. Jacobi's arms linked over Kepler's shoulders. He hid his head in the crook of Kepler's neck "Sir...is this uh, is this cuddle thing permanent?" Kepler pulled away a little, in order to see Jacobi properly. It was a long time since Jacobi had been held like this, since someone's body was this close to his own. The heat of Kepler's chest, the smell of his musky cologne, the way his arms wrapped around him so perfectly, it felt right to be this close. Jacobi felt Kepler pull away, his eyes fleeted over the elder's face and he felt a small pang in his heart at the loss of contact. Before he knew it, Jacobi was resting his lips against Kepler's. Kepler smiled and kissed back slowly, it had been years since contact like this for either of them. Space was lonely. Jacobi was impatient and sloppy, while Kepler, as always, was formal and calm. The two held eachother with wandering hands for what felt like a lifetime, yet it still wasn't enough time. Kepler pulled away with a gentle huff and Jacobi's casual smirk developed into a laugh. "Now now, Jacobi that was exceedingly unprofessional" Kepler smiled and stroked Jacobi's messy hair. "Hm, well in all fairness, Sir, we might die tomorrow and I'm not wanting to regret anything" Jacobi grinned. Kepler calmly slid Jacobi's hoodie off of his shoulders and gave him another soft kiss "So, crazy loose cannon Jacobi is afraid of dying, how...unexpected" "I'm not afraid!" Jacobi protested. "I just have so much left to work on. The Contact Point is kinda a big deal, and I might not get to work with the results after" "Whatever happens, happens. Don't let Eiffel, or the others, get in your way again. You're a smart kid" "You sound like Cutter" Jacobi snorted. "I'll take that as a compliment" Kepler smiled in a way that suggested he was up to something, he seemed to always smile like that. "Jacobi, would you do me the honours of spending your possibly last peaceful night, in here, with me?" Kepler sipped his scotch and smiled as he relaxed back into his chair, feet apart and legs spread. He was a devil of a man. And Jacobi was no angel. "Of course, Sir" Jacobi stood up off the desk with a smirk and lowered himself to straddle Kepler's wide lap. It was risky, and uncalled for and dangerous. In fact Jacobi was pretty certain that the folks back at Goddard Futuristics probably had this ship bugged, they were probably watching the whole thing. Kepler didn't care, he ran his hands down the sides of the kid who was known for breaking things and thought of a life beyond tomorrow, beyond the Contact Event. Everything would change.

#Wolf 359 #Daniel Jacobi #Jacobi #warren kepler #Kepler #Jacobi/Kepler #Wolf 259 fanfiction #space shiiiiiiit

12 notes · View notes